Five seconds too late
by Sothis Star1
Summary: This is a different kind of Jake/Neytiri romance, the story that would've unfolded had she been delayed for just five seconds while trying to reach him following the fight with Quaritch. Revised 3/9/11.
1. Chapter 1

**Five seconds too late**

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_At the end of James Cameron's Avatar, there is a final showdown with Colonel Quaritch during which the mobile link-station is breached, exposing Jake's human body to the toxic Pandoran atmosphere. Neytiri rushes inside and places a breathing mask on Jake's face, though she doesn't know how to operate it. On the verge of consciousness, Jake has just barely enough strength and presence of mind to reach up and pressurize the mask himself. _

_This is what would've happened had Neytiri been delayed only 5 seconds in entering the link-station._

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Chapter one

The enemy is dead, but the fight is not over.

Neytiri turns her focus to her mate, still lying on the ground where the enemy had dropped him. "Jake..." No response. Confusion and alarm swell within her chest as she tries to revive him. Then she recognizes the deep, even breathing and suddenly realizes what it means. Neytiri's eyes flash to the mobile Link station behind her and fix upon the gaping hole in the window.

She launches herself toward the alien structure, but a sudden burst of gunfire forces Neytiri to drop to the ground. She casts a frantic look in the direction of the noise. She has no time to battle another enemy. A tense moment passes, then a loud bellow announces the presence of a titanothere, which promptly rushes the offending gunman, leaving Neytiri free to vault inside. She bursts in and looks around, cursing the precious seconds she has just lost.

Almost immediately, Neytiri spots an alien figure lying on the floor - tiny and fragile. In one bound, she is at its side, gathering the unconscious body into her arms. "Jake! _Jake!_" His eyes are sightless and staring. She looks around wildly, sees the exopack nearby, and pushes the mask onto his face, her hands made clumsy with panic. Jake's breath fogs the plastic as he exhales, and Neytiri feels a glimmer of hope. _He's still breathing_.

But something is wrong. He draws a shallow breath, and Pandoran air leaks in under the mask. He's breathing poison._"Jake."_ She shakes him, but he doesn't respond. The movement jostles the mask, and it starts to fall off. She catches it and fumbles with its parts, sliding one of the bands over his head. It is more secure now, but she is missing... something. The fit is not air-tight; the filter is silent; no air is flowing. Even more precious seconds tick by as she searches for some sort of button or switch.

Finally—it takes far too long—she locates it near the chin. _Shoonk_. The mask pressurizes in an instant, molding to Jake's face. The filter hums quietly as air washes over his pale features.

He has stopped breathing by now. "Jake. Please." Neytiri shakes the frail human body once more. "_Breathe_. You are safe now." She smacks him on the chest with her palm. The blow causes him to cough hard, and he finally draws a long, shuddering breath, then another. His eyes flutter to life. A relieved smile breaks over Neytiri's face, and she strokes the side of his head. "Jake."

He smiles faintly and tries to reach for her face. His hand falls back, but she catches it and places it on her cheek, holding it there. Jake smiles again. "I See you," his whispers, rasping. He sounds terrible - barely able to manage a whisper - but Neytiri barely notices. Jake's alive. He's talking to her. There are tears in her eyes as she squeezes his hand. "I See you," she echoes.

Jake starts to respond. Then he coughs violently, causing his entire body to convulse. Neytiri holds him tighter and waits for it to pass.

Then she sees the blood.

Small flecks of red spatter the inside of the breathing mask, forced out by the coughing. Jake's throat moves as he swallows, hard, then he shudders as he closes his eyes and attempts to draw another deep breath. His chest fills half-way, and then another coughing fit wracks his body. More blood. It begins trickling from his mouth and nose, collecting along the edges of the mask where it meets his skin. Neytiri freezes, relief changing to horror. Jake coughs, then gasps. Gurgles, coughs, and gurgles more feebly. There are air bubbles mixed with the blood in his mouth.

He's drowning.

"No. No no no." Neytiri's mind sings with desperation. She doesn't know what to do - she needs to remove the mask to clear Jake's lungs, but then the air will hurt him even more. She hesitates a moment, then tries to take the mask off, but it is still pressurized and refuses to budge. Jake's eyes open again and gaze at her through the bloodied plastic barrier. They are full of grief and regret and... something else. Something gentle and distant and terrifying. "Stay with me, Jake," she breathes. She sees his blood-stained lips moving behind the plastic. No sound comes out, but she can read the silent words. _I'm sorry._

At that moment, Neytiri's fingers find the button that releases the mask. It falls off, dripping blood onto both of them. She shifts him so that it can drain out of his mouth, helping him with a hand pressed into his back. He manages another breath of poisoned oxygen, his lungs temporarily clear, and she scrambles to put the mask back onto his face. But he stops her hand, and she freezes.

Jake has his eyes fixed on her. With no barrier between them, she is struck by how familiar they look. They are a different color, and a different size, but they are unmistakably Jake.

"Neytiri," he croaks. Jake's voice.

"Jake, please." She moves to fit the mask again, but he shakes his head. There is a finality to the gesture. He doesn't want anything between them during this moment.

"Jake." She's begging. "Jake, I love you."

His mouth twitches into a smile as he feels her breath on his exposed face. Jake's smile.

"Neytiri," he whispers.

The mask clatters to the ground as she pulls his body to her chest and holds him.

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**Author's note:**

**The 5-second delay occurs in the 2****nd**** paragraph; all other circumstances are supposed to be as ****true to canon as possible. Quick fact check... the reason humans can't breathe on Pandora isn't due to a lack of oxygen, but rather due to high levels of gases such as carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, and hydrogen cyanide. **

**Not all of the chapters will be quite this angsty, I promise. It's a sad story, to be sure, but it's actually supposed to be somewhat uplifting in its own bizarre way. The best scenes are at the end, in my not-so-humble opinion, so hopefully some of you will stick around. :-) The story mostly follows Neytiri's POV, but the narrative uses a semi-omniscient voice and is written in a way that assumes the readers are human and not Na'vi.**

**Reviews of all types are very much appreciated! (Short, long, positive, negative.) **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Mo'at is skeptical.

She is convinced that this undertaking is doomed to failure and wonders for a moment why she agreed to go through with the attempt. It seems wrong to allow Neytiri to get her hopes up, no matter how much her daughter claims to understand the insanity of the situation. "At least _try_," Neytiri had asked. "He would've wanted us to."

Mo'at couldn't argue with that. Jakesully had thrown in his lot with the People in a way nobody could've foreseen; he had led them against his own kind despite overwhelming odds. In short, he had turned his back on every other future he could've had and gambled it all on a future with the Omaticaya. A future he had won in the end — for all of them — if only he had survived to claim it.

Today, they will try to fix that. If it works, it will be a miracle that makes the taming of Toruk seem commonplace by comparison.

The entire clan gathers in circles around the Tree of Souls. Together, they sync into the network as they had for Grace, even though they know they are attempting the impossible. Magic. Blasphemy, even. Grace had been alive, and still it had failed. She had been too weak—too close to death. And now they are asking Eywa to return somebody who has already died. Unheard of. The dead do not come back. It is against the way.

At the center of the caldera, the sleeping avatar body lies on the dais beneath the Tree's branches, flanked by Mo'at and Neytiri. With dread, Mo'at imagines the look on her daughter's face should the ritual fail, killing her last hope of ever seeing her Jake again. But even so, it is better to get this over with, so Neytiri may move on and begin healing. And she is right—they owe Jakesully this much.

Nearby, a group of Na'vi are restraining Jake's ikran. It is not easy. Without its bonded master, the thing is half-wild. But its presence is important. Without a living Jake to provide the spirit for this transfer, they must attempt to assemble the _tirea_ themselves from the pieces left behind. Anything that bears his imprint must be linked for the best chance of success. Really, they are lucky the ikran is here at all - Peyral managed to capture it when it happened to visit the ruins of Hometree, searching for its old roost. Its antenna alone is being held by two strong Na'vi, to maintain the link.

The ritual gets underway, with the assembled Omaticaya swaying and chanting in unison. Neytiri in particular strains to recall every detail—every facet of Jake—and feed it into the mother tree. She dwells upon every interaction, every word, every touch, the smallest of facial expressions... it is astounding how much she remembers. She must have underestimated how attuned she had been to him, even at the very beginning.

Above all, she dwells on what it felt to _be_ Jake, to link to him, to share his mind. Surely this should be enough. Surely everything that defines Jake is here, in this spot, preserved in the memory of all assembled. Even the ikran has quieted. It looks confused. Through the communal link—with everybody thinking of Jake and only Jake—it can sense its bonded master, but it cannot see him nearby. It tries to move toward the dais where the avatar is lying; its restrainers must push back to hold it in place. It is a good sign that the ikran is reacting this way: as if Jake were present, calling to it. Perhaps this will work after all. Jake was more deeply connected here than Grace had been.

The sun move across the sky as the trance drags on.

It keeps feeling as though they are almost there, as though a Jake-shaped essence is coalescing and becoming tangible. Neytiri senses his familiar presence beside her, and the sensation tears at her heart. The energy swells and comes to a head as the clan collectively tries to push this Jake-essence into the prone body on the dais.

But something doesn't quite match. The essence falls back and starts to dissipate, and they must struggle to bring it back. It is exhausting. They try again. And again.

It feels as though they are improving—that the fit is better each time—but then they reach a plateau. Something is missing—something important—and they can't find it no matter how they wrack their collective minds. Then it starts to get worse, as the people grow tired. They're going to fail.

The thought ignites a fire of fear and dread in Neytiri –_NO!_—and she pushes back with a renewed surge of desperate determination, so strong that it affects everybody linked in –_we were so close!_ The chanting gets louder, more intense. The Jake-shaped essence coalesces once more.

Then, without warning, a shadow passes across the center of the caldera. People look up, startled, and see Toruk passing overhead.

It is not hunting. If anything, there is an air of ceremony in its movements as it flies past. But the moment of surprise breaks everybody's concentration; the spell is broken; the Jake-shaped essence swirls apart as though scattered by the powerful wing-beats overhead. The ikran takes fright at the presence of its natural predator and wrenches free at last, flapping away toward the thundering mountains where it had lived wild. Something about its flight suggests that it is never coming back.

On the dais, Neytiri collapses from exhaustion and grief, landing on top of Jake's avatar: warm, breathing, but empty. Forever empty. They aren't going to attempt this again, and she knows it. Everybody is spent, exhausted. And now it seems obvious — stupidly obvious — that the ritual was doomed from the beginning.

What fools they were... wrestling with the little ikran, forcing its link into the network, thinking it would help complete the puzzle. Jake was _Toruk Makto._ He had bonded with the king of all beasts. In doing so, he had become part of it, and it had become part of him - no other living being had access to that. The puzzle was incomplete. It would always be incomplete.

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**Author's note: I realize this is the second chapter in a row to end on a terribly angsty note. I swear there is a point to all of this... eventually. Stay tuned.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

At dusk, Jake's human body and avatar body are placed face-to-face in a grave prepared between the roots of a tree — both curled up, like twins in the womb. A few rites are spoken, but the ceremony is sparse. The failed resurrection was already the most intimate funeral service imaginable; there is nothing left to say. Mo'at blesses the human body, murmuring. Then she turns her attention to the sleeping avatar body and draws a ceremonial knife: the same used to end the coma that old Na'vi sometimes slipped into near the end of their days.

Something snaps in Neytiri, unexpectedly, as she watches the knife approaching the avatar's heart. Perhaps it is habit — a leftover reflex from protecting him these last months. Her body moves seemingly without her command, and she lands between Jake and the approaching knife with a feral snarl.

Her mother recoils in shock. Her daughter should've known this was coming. This was how it was done.

"What are you doing?" she says sharply. "You know we must do this. It is not right to keep a spirit trapped, away from Eywa."

The fury dims in Neytiri's eyes. She blinks and relaxes her panther crouch. Instead she looks sad, pleading. She has remembered herself, but she's going to hold her ground.

"Mother, this is different. This is not like the old ones; Jake is not trapped in this body at all. He was in the other body when he..." She cannot bring herself to say it. "You felt it too. Jake is out there." She gestures. "This is only an empty shell. It would be no crime to allow it to keep breathing."

Mo'at hesitates. Neytiri has a point, but her protectiveness of the vacant avatar strikes her as unhealthy, and Mo'at is worried. She puts the knife away — for now — and takes her daughter's hand.

"Neytiri, daughter. This is true, but what is the point of preserving an empty shell? Jakesully is dead." Neytiri looks away, blinking. Mo'at grabs her chin, roughly, and forces her to meet her eyes again. The words are cruel, but it is important she hears them. "Jake. Is. DEAD. He is NEVER coming back. No matter what we do. No matter how much you want him." Neytiri swallows, but she doesn't flinch this time, and she doesn't look away despite the impact of her mother's words.

Mo'at sees this and her voice softens. "Perhaps you think it would be a comfort to have him nearby, sleeping, to preserve the dream that someday he will wake up. But that is a false hope; it will drive you mad. Jakesully has no need for this body anymore. Why should you?"

Neytiri takes a deep breath. Her voice is shaky but determined when she speaks. "I won't go mad." One of her hands is resting on her stomach, unconsciously. "I won't go mad," she repeats in a stronger voice. "I can't. I have to promise. For you, for the Omaticaya, for the little one." She tries to sound convincing, to meet her mother's eyes with honesty and sincerity. "But I need to keep... something. Please. Our time was so short." A flash of sympathetic grief crosses Mo'at's face, but she remains unconvinced. Neytiri presses on.

"What if we buried him and years later I find I cannot remember his face, or the shape of his hands? How could I bear that? You have father's bow, the knife whose handle fits his palm, the gifts he made for you over the years. What do I have?" Neytiri feels a tug of guilt as pain overcomes her mother's face at the mention of Eytukan. She has struck a nerve, but still: "You have your child, Neytiri." "Yes. And if we bury Jake, that child will never see its father's face."

There is a long silence. Mo'at is filled with uncertainty. "What do you propose, then?" she asks. "The body will waste away..."

"I'll take care of it. It won't be trouble. I'll make _ki'ong_ broth like we feed to the sick. I will clean him. I will exercise for him like we do for the injured while they are healing."

Mo'at looks at her daughter with sad eyes. "It will be like tending a baby, a cripple. You would do that every day?"

"I would." She briefly touches the tsahik's ceremonial knife. "You can always do this later if you judge it too much of a burden. But let me try, first. Please."

Mo'at is unhappy, but she cannot think of other arguments to press. It is very difficult to say no to her daughter. Neytiri has had to deal with a great deal of loss in very little time, and she has borne it with great courage and grace. And now she is asking for only one thing in return. Mo'at sighs. "All right. You may try. But please, Neytiri. Be careful of the burden you are placing on your own shoulders. Even the strongest can only stand so much."

Neytiri looks relieved. She hugs her mother. "_Thank you._"

"Eywa help you."

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**Author's note: It might seem a little much to have Neytiri be pregnant, but this is actually pseudo-canon. The complete Avatar script describes her as pregnant at the end of the movie, when Jake is doing that last voice-over (even though it didn't make the final theater cut).  
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**Huge shout-out and thanks to my reviewers. I hope that the rest of the story does not disappoint. ****The scene/chapter that inspired this whole fic comes near the end of the story, so keep reading! Thanks again.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

In the aftermath of war, there is no time for self-pity, and for this Neytiri is grateful.

A power vacuum exists within the clan, given that they had lost Eytukan, Tsu'tey and Jake all within a single week, along with many of their best warriors. As the Omaticaya struggle to get back on their feet, there is no time to properly select for a new Olo'Eyktan. Meanwhile, Mo'at has her hands full as Tsahik — conducting rites for the dead, watching over the wounded, and leading survivors in prayer.

Really, the only other person in the clan with true authority is Neytiri. She is the Tsahik's daughter, and the one to whom Eytukan had trusted his bow. She is the once-betrothed of Tsu'tey, the mate of Jakesully, and — most importantly — she speaks in a way that makes other people want to listen to her. As a result, she becomes the one that the People turn to for decisions, the one to whom the scouts report their findings as they fly in search of a new Hometree.

Neytiri throws herself whole-heartedly into her role, and in truth, it is not such a terrible burden. There is so much for her to do that her days become crowded with the daily minutiae of building a new life from scratch. It forces her to focus on something other than her dead father and dead mate. Being useful distracts her from lingering on the memory of how it felt to watch them die, feeling utterly powerless to save them. As a leader, she feels her heart go out to the people around her — _her_ people, _her_ clan. She is far from the only person who has lost a mate, or a parent, or a child, or a friend. Their pain grieves her; their sorrow is her sorrow. They need her, and her heart is filled with love and a sense of protectiveness, leaving no room for bitterness.

In other words, Neytiri keeps her word to Mo'at. She stays strong. She keeps her head up. She is a good Omaticaya, a good daughter, and... soon... a good mother. It's a girl, the midwives tell her. She feels a brief twinge of regret to learn that it is not a boy — that the child will not resemble Jake one day — then immediately feels a crushing sense of guilt, scolding herself for thinking such thoughts.

Then they put her baby daughter into her arms for the first time, and she forgets to think anything at all. She's perfect. Perfect life. Ten fingers. Eight toes.

In addition to tending the baby, Neytiri must tend to the avatar. It is tiring work, on top of everything else, demanding hours of labor each day. Her movements become quick and practiced. She has no time to let her fingers linger sentimentally on the avatar's lips as she tips the ki'ong broth down a hollow reed and into its throat. She must be efficient and dispassionate if she is to fit all of her various tasks and clan duties between the time of the sun's rising and the time of its setting. Even so, she takes comfort in the chores. They give her days a familiar rhythm; they provide a constant in the unsettled life that the clan leads in the process of finding and colonizing a new Hometree.

Others help her, of course, to ease some of her burden. When the clan finally settles, others bring her food and water, and she is not pressured to hunt and gather every day, though she often finds herself taking off into the jungle to ease the restless claustrophobia that otherwise builds in her chest. And like all Omaticaya mothers, Neytiri has the help of many hands in caring for little Mo'kriya.

However, Neytiri refuses to allow others to participate in caring for the avatar. This is her duty, and hers alone. One of the first things she does once they settle is arrange a private space among the closely twined columns at the heart of the tree, close to the roots. She shields the gaps with vines and sets up a special bed for the avatar. One of the first rules she establishes about life in their new home is that all are forbidden from entering this space except herself, her mother, and her daughter. It bothers Neytiri to see the way other people stare at Jake, eyes lingering on the hairstyle and emblems that marked him as _Tsam'eyktan_ — a war leader. After Jake became Toruk Makto, they stopped seeing him as a real person, as someone who experienced joy and fear and hope and pain. He became nothing more than an icon.

She recalls the night before the great battle — his last night alive. She had watched him deliver a thundering speech to his army, telling them that they were preparing for the greatest fight of their lives, perhaps the greatest fight of their history. That this was their home they were fighting for, their sacred mother that they were defending, and that they couldn't afford to lose. That they would _not _lose. That they knew this land, these skies, in a way the humans never would, and tomorrow the humans would discover the price of their ignorance. Neytiri recalls the war cries that had filled the night air, the way he'd made them feel invincible.

Then she recalls finding him later, alone, at the Tree of Souls. She'd heard him speak to it, curtained off from the outside world by its hanging tendrils. She remembers the quiet desperation in his voice as he'd confessed how hopelessly ungunned they were, had seen the regret in his eyes as he wondered whether he was about to lead their entire civilization to slaughter.

Only she had seen that; the others would never know how deeply afraid he had been. They don't understand him like she understands him. There is an intimacy between them that death cannot change, and she guards their privacy closely.

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**Author's note: This is the first of what you might call the in-between chapters. The more time I spend thinking about this story, the more I realize how important these middle chapters are; I've added two more to the ones I had originally planned. Chapter 5 will be one of them, and it's become one of my favorites. Stay tuned!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Someone is requesting to see Jake's avatar—requesting to invade Neytiri's most private sanctum. The worst part is that she can't say no.

Akwey has journeyed all the way from the plains just to pray before the body of Toruk Makto. He has fasted for days in preparation; it is a sort of pilgrimage for him. The very idea is distasteful to Neytiri. She doesn't want Jake's sleeping avatar to become some kind of religious attraction for people to ogle at. But they owe this Olo'Eyktan a tremendous debt of gratitude. His nomadic clan of horsepeople had been one of the first to answer their call to war, and the ground cavalry had suffered some of the heaviest casualties. So she hides her discomfort behind gracious words. It is the statesmanly thing to do.

Pausing outside the curtained space, Akwey squeezes Neytiri's hands, looking solemnly into her eyes. _"Thank you,"_ he whispers earnestly. She forces a smile.

Neytiri enters, holding the vines aside so Akwey can follow. He approaches the avatar slowly, eyes wide, with a reverence usually reserved for the Tree of Souls. It is a thousand times worse than when her fellow Omaticaya used to stare at the avatar, before she hid it away. Akwey kneels before the avatar, bowing his head. "I See you, Toruk Makto," he breathes.

_No, you don't,_ Neytiri thinks to herself, irritated.

Her attitude softens as Akwey continues. The Omaticaya are not the only clan having a difficult time. Akwey speaks of their sorrows, of the many fine warriors and horses they had lost in the battle. He speaks of how his own son had been wounded and how it had felt during the time when he wasn't sure the boy would make it. He speaks of how their hunting parties are finding it difficult to hunt the sturmbeests with their numbers so decimated, struggling to execute the elaborate herding maneuvers that characterize their traditional techniques. He fears his people will go hungry on top of everything else.

Neytiri feels a sense of guilt for the harsh thoughts she had been thinking earlier. They had been grossly unfair. She reflects that, after all, Akwey and others not of their clan had never known Jake as anything _other_ than Toruk Makto. They were not present that first night when he was presented before the Omaticaya, dressed in ridiculous alien clothes, unable to speak a single word of Na'vi - foolish and clumsy and ignorant. They didn't see him struggling with skills that most of them had mastered by the age of 5, like how to move silently and how to sit on a horse without falling off. The first time they had ever seen him, the first time they had ever even _heard _of him, was when he had landed in their midst on the back of Toruk, decorated for war, calling upon them to defend their home—a figure straight out of legend.

The Olo'Eyktan of the plains confesses to the avatar that these times have tested his strength as a leader like nothing else ever has—more than he ever expected to be tested—and that he fears he is not equal to the challenge. He begs Jake's spirit to give him strength, to speak to him and guide him.

Neytiri wonders whether Akwey could've gone to the Tree of Voices, had it not been destroyed, and spoken to Jake directly. The thought stirs up a fear that has been haunting her all along. She's not sure that he would've been able to do so.

When a Na'vi dies, there is often a brief moment when you can tell that they are Seeing Eywa, a sort of ultraviolet glow in the pupils just before the light fades visibly from their eyes. _Kxamtseng tok_, they called it, "to be in-between." She had seen that moment in her father's eyes. She had seen it countless times during the battle. She had even seen it in Grace's, with the Tree of Souls linking directly into her human nervous system.

She hadn't seen it in Jake's. She hadn't been able to See the exact moment when he'd left her. It wasn't until Neytiri had brushed a hand across his brow and the eyes didn't blink that she had realized he was dead. Neytiri is terrified by the thought that perhaps Jake isn't with Eywa at all - that he's simply _gone_. It is her greatest fear: that something about his alien-ness had stopped him from finding Her, that even death won't reunite her with her lost mate.

But then she remembers the resurrection attempt and how she had felt his presence beside her: true and tangible, however incomplete. It gives her some comfort - some part of him is still out there. She'd practically been able to hear his thoughts through the link, like a spectral echo of the way she heard his thoughts when they formed tsaheylu. Giving her strength, telling her not to give up, to try again. Apologizing –sheepishly, almost—that this whole ritual thing was taking so damn long, but promising that he was fighting right alongside them with everything he had, struggling to hold himself together, struggling to find his way back to the avatar, back to her. That it was hard –really hard—harder than taming Toruk, but he hadn't cared about the impossible odds then and he didn't care now; anything if it meant a chance to be part of her life again.

For her ears only, the voice had confessed that it hadn't been ready to die, not so soon. That dying sucks. That it was like losing your legs, except instead it was your entire body that was gone. That he missed her already and wanted to be with her. And anyway—a wry note, only half-joking—he at least needed to come back so he could clean up the terrific mess he'd made. And then that final message, during that devastating moment when Toruk had flown overhead and broken the spell, the same words that he'd tried to utter in the broken link-trailer: _I'm sorry._ And then he was gone, she couldn't hear him anymore, and instead of being reborn, it was like he had died twice.

Neytiri struggles to contain her emotions, to not break down in front of Akwey. But then she sees how deeply engrossed he is in prayer, almost trance-like. She could probably fall down wailing and he wouldn't notice.

Neytiri wonders how Jake would feel if he could see Akwey now—if he could see the way this proud leader was prostrate before him, looking up to him for guidance. Jake had insisted that he wasn't really civilian leader material, that he was a one-trick pony who was good at war and not much else. Privately, he had admitted being slightly embarrassed by the way people would look at him. He's just Jake, after all, Toruk or no Toruk. Jake the dumb grunt, Jake the child, Jake the skxawng. He wasn't cut out to be Olo'Eyktan; that was a job for Tsu'tey.

_But you would have grown into it_, she thinks. Jake was smarter than he gave himself credit for. She had glimpsed some fine diplomacy in the way he had offered his service to Tsu'tey, in his deferential decision to have the clan leader translate for him, even as he rallied the People to unite under his own legendary banner. Jake was an eloquent speaker, too, when the occasion demanded it.

Granted, he would've been out of his element, in the beginning. She would've needed to help him, to guide him in saying the appropriate phrases, to behave in the manner that people would expect an Olo'Eyktan to behave. She would've needed to be patient with him when he fumbled a ritual or rite of passage.

But that would've been okay. He would've learned, just like he had learned everything else she had taught him, and he would've made her proud. She reflects on this fondly. Their first relationship had been as mentor and student, and in many ways, this is still the Jake she remembers best.

Akwey concludes his prayer in effusive tones, tears visible on his strong cheekbones. Neytiri imagines the awkward, self-conscious look Jake would be wearing on his own face right now, and this time her smile is genuine.

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**Author's note: The "Learn Na'vi" pocket guide is an amazing resource; _kxamtseng tok_ really does translate as "to be in-between," with the correct verb order and everything. So the translation is canonical, though the concept is not. I'm just lucky that the words exist in the lexicon; the available vocabulary is not very extensive.**

**In case any of you were curious, the daughter's name-Mo'kriya- was spliced together in a way meant to evoke several things. The Tree of Voices is called "Utral Aymokriyä" (utral = "tree;" mokri = "voice"), and it has special significance as the place where her parents confessed their love and became a bonded pair. Then I threw in the apostrophe because A) it makes it similar to her grandmother's name "Mo'at" and B) in the scriptment, Mo'at's name was supposed to mean "Dream Catcher." I assume the first half of her name is the "dream" part. Anyway, I really, really wanted the daughter's name to incorporate the concept of dreaming—the idea that she was born of a dream, both figuratively and somewhat literally, given that Jake was "dreamwalking" when she was conceived. I'm not sure if the meaning of Mo'at's name can still be considered "canon," as a lot has changed, but "unil" is just ugly-sounding. So "Mo'kriya" is good enough for me. You'll get to see more of her in the next couple chapters.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

"We finally picked a new Olo'Eyktan today, Jake; it's taken us this long." Neytiri smiles as her hands continue their work, vigorously massaging the avatar's limbs. "It must be intimidating to seek a role that everyone knows would've gone to you otherwise; it was much simpler to let the widow take over for a while."

Neytiri has gotten into the habit of speaking her thoughts aloud when she is alone with the avatar, though she tries not to let anyone overhear her; surely they would worry for her sanity. But her mother is away from Hometree today and is thus unlikely to walk in on her. Mo'kriya is playing just outside, within earshot, but the girl is little more than a toddler and doesn't seem capable of worrying about anything.

"His name is Ralteyo; I'm not sure if you remember him. He was one of the better candidates. He has a good mind, a good heart, and he's not a bad warrior. There is something timid in his spirit, though, despite all that. He's not you." Neytiri moves on to exercising the avatar's joints. "Beyda'alo was a little better in that regard, but his mate is a weak woman. I didn't like the thought of her as Tsahik. I could probably win against her if it came to it, when mother's time is up, but I didn't want to take chances. So I put my support behind Ralteyo, instead. _His_ mate—Selune—there's a strong woman. She had to run through ten strides of hot embers to rescue their infant son from the old Hometree; you should see her scars. She'd do just fine."

She methodically flexes and unflexes the avatar's joints, from the large hip joints down to the tiny pinkie fingers, an alien feature that his daughter had inherited, along with his forthrightness and the shape of his eyes. The child resembles Jake after all. The extra digits, however, were making the task of teaching Mo'kriya to count much more confusing for the young Na'vi, as it made the base-eight numerical system less intuitive. Jake himself had never progressed to the point where he could simply think in base-eight. Tsu'tey had enjoyed finding ways to casually work simple arithmetic problems into the questions he asked him, in front of other people. Jake had to stop, mentally convert all the numbers to base-ten, do the math, then convert everything back to base-eight again before he could answer, usually after an embarrassingly long pause. He was too proud to complain, although it didn't stop him from looking extremely annoyed. None of this had been helpful when he was trying to not look like the village idiot more than he already did.

Neytiri finishes exercising the first hand and reaches across the body for the second one. Her care has been dedicated and thorough over the years, with the result that the avatar looks much as it did the last time Jake had used it.

At that moment, Neytiri hears little footsteps approaching. Mo'kriya enters, pushing the vines aside with an innocent casualness that only she and Mo'at are entitled to. She tosses her little body onto a raised root –a sort of natural bench—and conversationally asks Neytiri when her father is going to wake up.

Neytiri freezes, the question catching her off guard, then answers quickly: "I told you, Mo'kriya, your father is not like the other fathers. He doesn't wake up."

"But why? That's not fair." Mo'kriya's tone is wheedling, as though she is trying to make her mother see reason. "Grandmother says it's because he is with Eywa, but I think she is kidding me. Other people who are with Eywa go into the ground; they don't stay here in Hometree. And their middles don't move up and down like father's." Mo'kriya had just seen her first funeral a few days ago; one of her friends, Amanti, had lost an uncle to a slinger. The girl laughs. "I think he is playing a trick on us. And one day he will wake up and take me to find fan lizards, like Seyval's father does." She sounds happy and certain, her tail flicking from side to side.

It takes Neytiri a few moments to compose herself, but when she speaks, her voice is gentle and steady. "That won't happen, little one." She puts down the avatar's hand and crosses over to sit on the root, taking her daughter into her arms. Mo'kriya frowns and begins to argue, but Neytiri puts her finger on the girl's lips to stop her. "Be a good girl and listen to your mother. Your father loves us; he would never play such a mean trick. If he could wake up and take you to find fan lizards he would do it _right now._" The girl's eyes widen and she automatically glances toward the sleeping avatar, but Neytiri turns her face back, gently. "But he can't do that, Mo'kriya. He won't ever be able to do that. It's not his choice. Your grandmother is right; father is with Eywa, and Eywa doesn't give people back. You have to be strong, like your friend Amanti."

She pauses for a moment to let that sink in. Mo'kriya looks confused and a little frightened, but she is listening now. "You didn't get to see, but we _**did **_put your father's body into the ground. But he was different. Special. He had TWO bodies, but only one spirit. When he was in one body, the other one would sleep, with no spirit inside. So whenever you would see him sleeping and not waking up..." Neytiri gestures toward the avatar and the girl looks. This time Neytiri lets her. "... that meant father's spirit was awake in the other body."

Mo'kriya thinks about this. "Where is his other body then?"

"I told you, love. We had to put it into the ground."

"Oh." She thinks some more. "Why can't his spirit come back to this body then, while the other one sleeps?" she asks, pointing. Neytiri's throat seizes up. _Smart child_. She swallows before speaking. "Because his spirit had already gone to Eywa. And once your spirit goes to Eywa, it can't come back, not even if you have an extra body like father did."

_Well, that's not quite true_, Neytiri thinks. _The ritual could've worked... if we had tried before the battle_. She pushes down the pang of regret and forces herself to focus on her daughter. Mo'kriya is staring hard at the avatar. "I don't think that's fair. I think Eywa should let him come back and live with us."

Neytiri chuckles. "So do I, but it is not our place to question Her."

Mo'kriya sighs gustily and crosses her arms, frowning at her mother. "I don't understand," she declares, almost defiantly. Behind the bold stare, Neytiri can see the beginnings of tears starting in her large eyes.

Neytiri sighs. "Tomorrow we will talk to some people—your grandmother, others who are like your father. Maybe they can help you understand." _It is important that you do_, she adds in her mind.

Her daughter's ears perk up, twitching. "There are others like father?"

"Yes. With two bodies and one spirit."

"Do theirs sleep all the time?"

"No, love. Just your father's."

Neytiri makes a mental note to stop talking to Jake when their daughter is around.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Mo'kriya slinks along the twined trunks of Hometree like a graceful shadow, her long limbs deftly feeling out the most silent path to her destination. She had spied this opportunity a few days ago and has been itching to take advantage of it ever since. Mo'kriya forces herself to be patient as she edges closer to her goal. She knows her mother has sharp ears, and just one careless noise can ruin the entire undertaking.

Up ahead, her target calls to her like a beacon. There is a gap in the twisted wood that keeps her father's avatar walled off from the world—one of the few gaps not blocked by a dense growth of leafy vines. Even better, this one is close to a large trunk that snakes through Hometree's dark interior almost horizontally. And it is high enough from the ground that Neytiri is unlikely to look up and see her, as long as Mo'kriya remains silent. She can see a faint glow emanating from the spot, and knows that her mother must be inside, tending the avatar by the light of a burning _baja _nut.

Mo'kriya eyes the horizontal trunk carefully; this part is going to be tricky. She plans her move with her eyes. Then, in one fluid motion, she launches her tall adolescent figure through the air, landing softly on a mossy patch. She crouches there in silence for a few moments, motionless except for her ears, which flicker and pivot as she listens for any kind of disturbance or sign that her mother has overheard her. Nothing. She fixes her eyes on the opening—like a hunter watching prey—and stalks closer, her lean body slung low like a panther's.

In some ways, this sneakiness is completely unnecessary. Mo'kriya is one of very few people who are free to stroll in through the main entrance any time she wants to without permission. She makes use of this privilege frequently, perching on her log while Neytiri does her daily chores, pestering her mother with questions.

Mo'kriya is very conscious of the fact that she is Jake's daughter, partly because she sees him everyday. As a child, it used to be her trump card in disputes with other young Na'vi. Whenever they would come to an impasse—when it seemed the situation was ready to come to blows—Mo'kriya would square her small shoulders, pin the other child with a fierce gaze, and proclaim in majestic tones that she was the daughter of Toruk Makto and that they had to do what she said. This move very rarely failed, even on children twice her size. But for all that, some corner of her young mind had always felt that she didn't really know her father, despite the stories she managed to wheedle out of her mother. She always sensed that Neytiri was holding something back, frustrating her inquisitive mind.

Clearly, spying is the logical solution.

Mo'kriya twines one slender forearm around a thick vine, gripping it in her five-fingered hand, and leans away from her foothold as far as she can. Her weight is suspended precariously yet confidently in mid-air as she presses her face close to the gap in the wood, peering down into the illuminated space from above. Her golden eyes, ringed with long lashes, are as huge and luminous as those of any full-blooded Na'vi, but they have retained her father's shape. From this vantage point, she can glimpse her mother working. Mo'kriya picks out the soft sound of her voice, and she feels a smug surge of triumph, grinning to herself. She _knew_ Neytiri had been lying when she claimed she didn't talk to Jake anymore. Her middle-aged face looks serene in the flickering glow of the _baja_ lamp. From the snatches that Mo'kriya can pick out, it sounds like she is telling Jake about the previous day's hexapede hunt, the push fruit she had found this morning, the strength of this year's _awaiei _seed harvest—little things.

Then she hears her own name among Neytiri's ramblings. "You should see Mo'kriya, Jake; she is so beautiful." The young woman strains to hear the rest, barely breathing as she turns her head to hold her ear close to the gap. "She looks more like you than she looks like me, do you know? It's true. I'm not the only one who says so. And brave like you, too, stupidly brave." A laugh. "The young men cannot get enough of her. You would've had your hands full, trying to keep them at bay. But don't worry about her. Your daughter is smart and strong; she'll take care of herself.

"There is one fellow, Jake, he is very persistent." Outside, in the dark, Mo'kriya feels a hot blush rising in her cheeks; she must be referring to the Olo'Eyktan's son, Jeytalan. She had no idea her mother had even noticed.

Neytiri continues: "Always showing off in front of her, hanging around, bringing her little gifts, talking about himself. I think you would've found him extremely irritating." Her voice softens. "But give the boy a chance, Jake. I sense a good heart in him. Honestly, I think he's a little afraid of our Mo'kriya and is trying to make himself feel brave. You used to do the same sort of thing, sometimes. Yes, it was that obvious. Why do you think Tsu'tey disliked you so much?"

The voice is full of fondness now. "You know, I used to think it was just stupidity, some of the things you were willing to do, or that you didn't care about getting hurt because you had another body to run back to. I didn't think much of it.

"Then there was one day, about two months in... one of the other young women was talking to you; I forget who. I overheard you teasing each other. I think she was trying to make you eat one of the spiny _kali'weya _larvae. You kept refusing, laughing, saying you'd come to terms with _teylu_ but that you drew the line on something that might give you a 'surprise tongue piercing.'

"But then later, I offered you one at dinner, and you didn't even hesitate."

Mo'kriya can barely hear her mother now; the voice is so quiet. "It was just a little thing, but after that I started worrying about you and the stunts you would pull for me. I was sure I would be the death of you one day. Did I ever tell you that?"

There is a long pause. "I don't think I ever told you that."

There is silence now. Mo'kriya turns her head and puts her eyes against the gap again, trying to see what is going on.

Neytiri's head is bowed low, her forehead nearly touching the mossy bedding. Her face is hidden, and Mo'kriya tries to guess what she is doing. Praying?

Then she starts, nearly losing her grip on the vine, as Neytiri draws in a sudden, pained gasp: noisy, like the first half of a sob. The second half is inaudible, but Mo'kriya can see her shoulders shaking. It frightens her. She can't remember ever seeing her mother like this. She briefly contemplates giving away her position and running down to comfort her, but in the next moment, Neytiri's head has snapped back up. She dries her eyes—quickly, efficiently—and looks around, ears twitching to see if anyone might have heard her.

Neytiri sits still for a few moments, eyes closed, breathing deeply and deliberately until the breaths are steady once more. When she opens her eyes again, she looks as serene as she had at the beginning. She stands up. "Good night, Jake," she murmurs, bending down to kiss the avatar's cheek. "Sleep well."

She extinguishes the _baja_ lamp, placing one half of the thick husk over the other. Then she turns and pushes through the vines on her way to bed.

Mo'kriya feels a sudden panic. She must beat her there! She turns and begins scrambling along the trunks, caught between a need to move quickly and a need to move quietly. She makes it back; her mother is nowhere in sight.

Mo'kriya quickly swings her lithe body into her hammock and closes her eyes, trying to quiet her heavy breathing and thudding pulse. A few moments later, she hears her mother arriving, and she feigns sleep as best she can. She briefly feels her mother's lips on her cheek, very softly, as though Neytiri is being careful not to wake her. Then she hears Neytiri's movements as she climbs into her own hammock.

Mo'kriya's mind is too full of the need to hide her eavesdropping to dwell on what she has overheard. She waits until Neytiri's breath has taken on the quiet, even rhythm of sleep. Finally, sure that her mother is asleep, she rolls onto her back, eyes wide.


	8. Chapter 7b

Neytiri sleeps peacefully, her hammock swinging gently in a warm breeze as she dreams.

She often has dreams, and when she recalls them in the morning, she subconsciously files them into categories. This one is a memory dream: a straight-forward recollection of the past. The details are slightly hazy — the textures smoothed over and simplified — but other than that, it is a faithful rendition of the original, free of embellishment.

* * *

_Jake and Neytiri lay gasping on the forest floor, alone in the spot where they had retreated after speaking before the first of the horse clans. Toruk roosted some distance away, out of sight, resting for tomorrow when they would fly again to muster more clans._

_He was lying on top of her, his warm weight pressing down on her body. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat — it drifted away in near-invisible wisps of steam as the cool night air mingled with the heat rising from their flushed skin. Their breath came ragged as they lay still, recovering from their exertion. They were still getting to know each other __—_ everything was fresh and new — and yet every touch seemed to remind them that their time was short, that the hopeless war was waiting for them. It was a potent mix that had driven them to breathless heights of passion and left them completely spent in its wake.

_Jake finally caught his breath enough to speak. He rolled off Neytiri and onto his side, pulling her to his chest._

"_This is so unfair," he chuckled._

"_What is unfair?" she asked, still panting._

"_Everything. Mostly unfair to you."_

_She waited for his explanation._

_He shook his head. From his expression, he seemed half ready to laugh and half ready to cry. "I just mean... this is some honeymoon you've been getting, you know?"_

"_What is 'honeymoon'?"_

_He shrugged. "It's a tradition. After two people get hitched, they go off somewhere nice for a couple days. Maybe a couple weeks if they can afford it. But the point is... it's a time when they can forget everything and just enjoy each other for a bit. Just the two of them." He stroked the side of her face."I really wish we could have that." He swallowed and looked away, staring up at the canopy of foliage overhead. "But we've got a war to fight."_

_Neytiri thought about this. She studied Jake's face as it grew serious again, the eyes becoming troubled._

_She covered his eyes with her hand. "Forget the war, Jake."_

_He gave a wry snort and moved her hand off his eyes and up onto his forehead, like a pair of goggles. "It's kind of a big thing to forget."_

"_Just for now," she insisted. "It will be there later. Worry then."_

_She took her queue and linked it with his. She had avoided doing this earlier; her mind had been so overwhelmed with the enormity of her own emotions that she hadn't felt ready to handle his as well. But now, she used the bond to encourage a sort of meditation, sending waves of calm into his mind. "Forget the war."_

_It was a delicate balancing act — telling him to stop thinking about the war without thinking about it herself. She forced herself to relax along with him. She encouraged their linked minds to drift and wander aimlessly, all the while creating a natural blind spot where the war would be. And then she encouraged their minds to forget that there was a blind spot. It took a long time, but she was patient._

_When the time finally seemed right, she moved her face close and very gently brushed her lips against his. "This is 'honeymoon,'" she murmured. "Right here, right now. It is enough." She pulled back and looked him earnestly in the eye."I am most lucky woman in the world."_

_A huge smile broke across his face, and she felt his pleasure through the bond. In the back of her own mind, she felt satisfaction for her success, admiring the pureness of the joy she had created in him. It wasn't mingled with guilt and regret, like before. For a moment, he was just happy._

_He touched her face. "And I'm the luckiest guy in the galaxy."_

_They lingered in the moment for as long as they could._

_Finally, Neytiri spoke again. "You should sleep, Jake."_

_His mind clouded at these words. He hugged her closer, the anxiety trickling back in. "I don't want to leave." The anxiety kept coming. Neytiri tried to push it back, but it was too late. The grim reality of what they were facing came cascading back into Jake's mind with a rolling crash. He squeezed her convulsively and buried his head in the hollow of her neck. "God, Neytiri," he whispered. "I don't want to lose you."_

_And then it affected her too. Unbidden, her mind began conjuring images of war and death, like a terrible prophetic vision. She couldn't speak, but the thought echoed loud and clear through their link. _I don't want to lose you, either. _ They clutched each other, clinging together desperately like shipwreck survivors on a raft._

_He rolled up onto one elbow and looked her in the face, his expression urgent. He paused, moistening his lips, as if he had something very important to tell her. "Neytiri... I love you, okay? I've never loved anything or anyone like this before, and I want you to know. I want you to remember. 'Cause that's never gonna change, whatever happens next." He swallowed. "I want you to remember it for the rest of your life."_

_She nodded, tears standing in her eyes. It would have been redundant to repeat the same sentiment back at him. He already knew. He could feel it through the bond._

_She touched him again, her voice thick. "Go to sleep." He hesitated, eyes pleading. "Please, Jake. We need you, and you need your rest." She pushed him back down, then nestled into his arms, arranging their limbs until they were both comfortable. "Go to sleep, Jake." He hesitated again, then nodded. He closed his eyes, and she felt his mind go blank._

_With Jake gone, she finally allowed herself to indulge in a brief fit of mindless panic — pure, raw terror. Her mind was full of the sensation of being alone. She let the rush of emotion ride through her, past her, until it had run its course and rolled away, and she could turn to watch its retreat. Then she disconnected from the vacant avatar and closed her own eyes, listening to its heartbeat, letting the rhythm comfort her. She knew Jake would be back in the morning._

* * *

**Author's note: For those of you who are new, this chapter was written after the fic was already completed. It was then retroactively inserted as a bonus chapter; this is why it is labelled "chapter 7b" instead of "chapter 8." The scene depicted in this memory is a continuation of the scene that takes place in the one-shot "You came back." Although I've written it as a flashback in "five seconds too late," the scene itself takes place before the movie universe and the "five seconds" universe diverge. So you are free to imagine that they both end up surviving the battle.**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

Life goes on.

After a very long and well-respected life, Mo'at dies, and the Olo'Eyktan's mate makes a bid for the role of Tsahik. Neytiri does not contest her. She respects Selune enough to trust the Omaticaya to her care. It's not worth stirring up strife by fighting for the post that Neytiri had once been destined for.

Before long, her daughter takes Jeytalan as her mate, just as she had predicted. They are next in line to lead the clan. Mo'kriya is all grown up now—independent. Neytiri does not need to take care of her. Her days become much less busy.

In Neytiri's old age, there is less duty, less responsibility, less company—in other words, less distraction. She discovers, somewhat to her surprise, that she hasn't healed nearly as much as she thought she had, that the pain was not so much gone as hidden over the years. The loss of her parents and others she'd cared about have become scars—ugly to look at, but painless. The wound left by Jake's passing, by contrast, has merely scabbed over—not bleeding, to be sure, but the wound is still raw and red just beneath the surface. Neytiri is not sure why things should be any different with Jake, and she's a little disappointed in herself. She'd thought she was stronger.

She finds herself haunted by what might have been. If only she had been smarter, faster, if she had simply arrived by Jake's side earlier. She finds herself dwelling on the moments they would've had together, the things they would've seen, the pranks they would've pulled, even the arguments they would've had. She recalls their first kiss, lingering on the memory of his arms around her body. She imagines him playing with their daughter, teaching her how to fly an ikran, intimidating her suitors. She wonders how his face would look now if it had been creased with emotions over the years like her own, rather than showing age via a mere wilting of the skin, so subtle as to be barely noticeable.

Sometimes, the scab tears off when Neytiri is not careful—if she moves too suddenly, or tries impatiently to pick it away. When that happens, things are difficult. More than once, she cries herself to sleep, clutching the avatar's hand, but she is okay again in the morning, able to face the world with a wrinkled smile.

One day, she attempts something she had always contemplated, but had always rejected as being both morbid and irresponsibly dangerous. Now, though, she is old enough that it would not be so bad if something went terribly wrong. She picks up the avatar's queue in one hand, her own in the other, and joins them.

For a moment, she feels great comfort. She can feel Jake's heartbeat and his breath. But then... something is not quite right. The heartbeat is too slow, the breathing too shallow. The mind is blank. She disconnects, fighting against a renewed sense of loss. What else did she expect? She is lucky that she didn't plunge herself into a coma of her own, that the whole thing was as... normal... as it was. That it was so very unremarkable.

Even so, she tries again after a while and eventually starts doing this with some regularity. She comes to terms with the emptiness enough that the blankness brings comfort instead of pain. It helps calm her when her mind is too full of turmoil. It is like a form of meditation—a trance—allowing her to share in the partial oblivion when life is too much for her.

Things settle down again. Neytiri is peaceful, if not entirely at peace. She can do this. This is not too hard. Life is bearable enough that she can take joy in the beautiful world around her. She is most happy when she is with her daughter, and the joy of holding her first grandchild is pure and strong. The idea of living day after day without Jake, until she eventually dies of old age, stops sounding like such a punishment.

And then, suddenly, there is another death.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

The vast wings –leathery expanses of ferocious red and yellow—lie crumpled and faded.

Staring at the fallen predator, it seems impossible that something so invincible could be rendered into something so pitiful. Toruk feared nothing—no creature dared challenge it—but in the end, it has been brought low by the mere passage of time, by something completely mundane and ubiquitous. Neytiri cannot help but be reminded of Jake, _Toruk Makto_, only the 6th in all of history... poisoned to death by the very air around them, drowning in the blood of his own inadequate lungs.

For Neytiri, the death takes on a special significance because Toruk had been one of the last living things that had known Jake in any truly meaningful way. Her parents, Tsu'tey... surely the ikran is dead by now as well. Grace, Trudy, most of the humans who had remained behind. All gone to the passage of time. Neytiri wonders if she is the only one left that still remembers him and mourns him. The sensation is profound in its loneliness.

The Omaticaya gather in ceremony, paying respects to the rarest and noblest beast known to Pandora, blessing its warrior spirit and conveying it back to Eywa. Its skull will become a totem in their home, just like in the old Hometree. Neytiri joins in the song, honoring Toruk, but in her heart she is singing the song for Jake, and the tears flow freely.

When she goes to tend the avatar that night, it is like the decades have not passed at all. The wound is as raw and fresh and desperate as it was the day they buried him, the day she convinced her mother to save his avatar from the same grave. Now, she is not so sure that it had been a good idea. Her mother had been right all along. She has been keeping alive a false hope. It's what has prevented her from healing. He looks too real; his skin is too warm. She finds herself actually staring into the aged, sleeping face, trying to will the eyes open. She feels insane.

Hours pass, and still her agitation does not subside. She forms tsaheylu, fingers fumbling, hoping to at least submerge the emotion beneath the tranquility of the trance, like putting herself under a drug. But the peace does not feel right. It is not truly the peace of sleep, like she has allowed herself to pretend. She still wants the eyes to open, to have Jake be here to share in the peace and have the peace be real.

Irrationally, she eases the eyes open, gently, with her fingertips. She sees the bright yellow there for the first time since the great battle. But they are flat, dead. She lets them slide shut again and slowly doubles over onto the ground, gasping, the wound wide open and gushing. She feels she will bleed to death. She can't see straight. She can't even tell if her queue is still linked—stupidly linked to the hopeless, useless, empty body that she has foolishly preserved for all these years. Probably she is not, or the pain wouldn't be this intense. The dead do not feel pain.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

Neytiri sleeps dreamlessly, deeply, like a person in a coma. Then she feels a touch on her shoulder. It feels like Mo'kriya is trying to wake her. She feels a jolt of guilt. She must have allowed herself to fall asleep under tsaheylu. Her daughter must think she's in trouble. Her hand flashes to her queue... but no, she is not linked after all. The hand touches her again, and she finally opens her eyes.

It's Jake.

"Hi," he says.

Neytiri scrambles into a sitting position, gasping. "I don't believe it." She reaches toward him, reflexively, then stops. She is afraid of what her hands might touch — or fail to touch. "Where have you been?" she whispers, wide-eyed. "I thought you were gone; we tried everything. How are you here?"

Jake rests his hand on her shoulder again, and it's warm and solid; its weight is reassuringly real. "It's been a long sleep." He smiles the old smile at her, and it's like gazing directly into the past. Then his brow furrows slightly. "I've been lost to dreaming, I think. Wandering, trying to gather pieces of myself. It wasn't like with your father, or Tsu'tey, or Grace. I was alien. I couldn't find your Eywa on my own, without help. It was all very... confusing."

Neytiri touches one of the braids hanging in front of his ears, still disbelieving. Jake continues: "It's been an awfully long, hard journey. And I missed you like crazy the whole way, Neytiri, you gotta believe me. I tried. I really did." His eyes are pleading, sorrowful, and there is a sense of _time_ in them that she does not remember being there before. "But I was scattered: in the People, in the scientist guys, in my ikran, in Toruk, in you. I tried to collect them, but there were pieces missing, before tonight, and I couldn't find myself — couldn't find my way back."

With a start, Neytiri suddenly realizes that the hair she is stroking is different from that of the avatar she had fallen asleep next to. This is not the aged Jake, the one she has been tending. This is the young Jake, the Jake she had taught to become Omaticaya, the Jake she remembers best. She looks down and sees that she too is younger, the version of herself that had first fallen for him so many years ago.

"I am dreaming," she realizes aloud. She feels a sudden, terrible grief. "You have not really returned."

Jake hastens to comfort her. "If you're dreaming," he says earnestly, rubbing her arms, "don't wake up. Dream, and stay with me. Just for a little while."

Neytiri tries to speak, but emotion has robbed her of her voice. She grapples with joy and sorrow, relief and loss.

"I've missed you, Neytiri." His voice is soft. "I'm sorry for hurting you, for doing this to you... and for so long."

The apology hits a nerve. "How could you think that?" she demands, incredulous. "How could you ever think I am lessened from knowing you?"

The fiery response provokes an appreciative grin. "You're a fighter, all right. You're the strongest person I know." His smile is mingled with sadness. "I swear, anyone else would have just lost it. But you held on. For Mo'kriya, for the Omaticaya. I'm proud of you."

Neytiri considers these words. "Perhaps I _did_ go mad." She touches his face with one hand; with the other, she traces his arm down to hold his hand—too warm and tangible and textured to be a normal dream. "This does not feel like a dream. This is like a vision, like when we swallow the worm before becoming Omaticaya." Wonder plays in her eyes. "But if I am mad, I do not want to be sane." She traces his lips with her fingertips. "If I am dreaming, I do not want to wake up."

Jake puts a hand under her chin. "Then don't."

Neytiri closes her eyes and leans forward, resting her forehead against his. "_I have missed you so much_."

"I'm with you now, Neytiri."

"I am with you, Jake, _ni'awongay_." She uses the Na'vi word that encompasses "always; past, present, and future; everywhere."

Their kiss is warm and soft and true-to-life, and it is just how she remembers it.

He is so gentle with her. The gentleness had been a surprising contrast to the force she had expected from a warrior, that first time under the Tree of Voices. It had made her want more. It had stoked her to a state of demanding need, a primal hunger that surprised her and smashed through all the prudent walls she'd thought were in place. Now, as then, she is filled with a compulsion to pour her passion forth and make him kiss her harder, make him kiss her _properly_.

But now, unlike then, she is afraid to do so. She is afraid that any bold movement will make him dissolve into the wind and disappear, like smoke-forms over a fire. Her closed eyes tear at this thought, and the hot prickling sensation is real. There is a tension in her kiss. She is trapped between desire and fear.

After a moment, Jake pulls back and looks Neytiri in the eye. There is a question in his gaze.

"You want something," he says simply.

Neytiri is trembling... without realizing it, the end of her queue has appeared in her hand. "I... I want to make the bond. But I'm afraid." She clutches his forearm in spasms, trying to reassure herself. "I'm afraid it would be too much. That you'll disappear. That you'll leave me again." Her throat closes with emotion as her mind shies in terror... the loss is too much to contemplate. It makes no sense. She has already dealt with this loss; it's in the past; she has had years and years to deal with it. Yet somehow the loss hurts more, not less. She drops her gaze away from his. She cannot bear the knowledge that this living Jake will be lost to her again, when she wakes up, no matter how desperately she holds him.

Jake physically forces Neytiri to look at him again. "I have never left you."

And then — suddenly, naturally, easily, like waking from restful sleep — she is inside Jake's mind. His spirit fills her consciousness, leaving no room for anything else. She can feel his heartbeat like it is her own heartbeat, she can feel his breath rushing in and out, and it is alive and strong and _real, real, real!_ She thrills to it, forgetting her fear, forgetting the loss and the pain, forgetting all the endless years of lonely endurance as if they had never existed. She is transported back in time, and there is no pain, no heartbreak, no wound. Her mind leaps with sudden joy, with laughter. She can feel her joy echoed in his mind through their link; he matches it with his own and sends it back to her, like an infinite echoing chamber. She explores his body with her hands, and this time it is not out of a need to prove to herself that he is real.

She forgets the sheer impossibility of what she is experiencing and loses herself to his touch, reveling in the way he smells, the way he tastes. A fierce surge of vitality erupts from somewhere — it is unclear from which mind — and it is a mental roar of power and joy and freedom and deep, deep love. And suddenly their linked minds are racing with images from memory and imagination. They are running through the forest, leaping from branches, falling through the air, catching themselves in each other's arms. They are diving for the ground, faster than free-fall, racing each other on their ikran. Then they are on the back of Toruk, rising and falling to the beat of the giant fiery wings, the most powerful hunter in the skies... and they are riding not to war, but for sheer exhilaration. There is no responsibility, no duty, no other beings in the world but the two of them. It seems the ride will never end. That there is no need for it to ever end.

* * *

Hours later, lying beneath the remembered branches of the Tree of Voices, she turns to him.

"You know my real body is far away, sleeping."

Jake smiles, recognizing his own words from decades ago.

Neytiri hesitates. "I don't want to go back," she whispers.

"You don't have to." Jake's words are gentle, and she feels instant relief. He touches his lips to her forehead then looks down into her eyes. "But you probably should." He says it casually, like an afterthought.

Neytiri's breath catches in her throat; she reflexively holds Jake closer. "Jake, why? I am old." She searches his eyes. "Mo'kriya is grown, and she is strong, like you. She doesn't need me anymore. And Jeytalan is a good match for her, like I told you. I don't need to watch over them. Ralteyo and Selune are good leaders — good enough for peace-time, at least. The Omaticaya will be fine without me." She knows she is babbling, but she can't stop. Was he really sending her away? "There is nothing left to bind me there. I am weary. I have done my duty. I have lived a long life. Have I not earned my place with you?"

Jake lets Neytiri talk herself out, without interruption, but a small smile of amusement has been growing on his face. "Look. Neytiri. I can't make you do anything; you should know that. To stay or go back is your choice alone. Anyway, I think you misunderstood me." He takes her face in his hands, then kisses her with sudden passion, without the usual teasing prelude. Then he pulls away and grins at her. "If you do go, I want you to come back to me. Soon." Neytiri stares at him, confused. He continues: "It's just... I don't know if Mo'kriya and the other clan kids have seen you so completely happy. It's pretty. Everyone should get a look."

Neytiri finally understands what he is saying. If she does not go back, they will find her lifeless body on the ground, next to Jake's, and they will be aggrieved. The least she can do is go back and say a proper farewell — let them know that she is happy and that they should celebrate rather than mourn. She looks back at Jake, and his outline is less distinct now that she has made a decision.

"How will I find you again?" she asks quickly.

His voice sounds very far away. "The same way you did tonight."

Back in Hometree, Neytiri awakens. She sits up, and looks around, disoriented. Then her eyes land on the sleeping avatar. She had been linked the entire time.

* * *

**Author's note: This, my friends, is the scene that started it all; the first chapter I ever wrote. I certainly didn't expect that it would turn into this sprawling, multi-chapter saga, and that I would become an ffn junkie in the process. But it's been a wonderful ride, and I'm so happy to finally share this scene with you. Thanks again to my reviewers, especially those of you who have been reading and reviewing from the beginning, waiting for updates. You know who you are. I hope this fic delivered in the end.**

**If it's possible to keep reviews free of specific spoilers, that would be appreciated. I want readers to be as shocked as Neytiri is when the hand turns out to be Jake's and not Mo'kriya's. Other than that, feel free to celebrate a little. ;-)  
**

**I have one more chapter sitting on my computer that I will post—a sort of epilogue—and then I'm gonna call this fic complete. Eventually, I will post some "bonus material" from Jake's POV as a sister fic called _Kxamtseng Tok,_ but that might not be for a while. So, for the last time... stay tuned!**


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

Neytiri spends the day setting her affairs in order. Everyone is surprised by what she is doing, but they are even more struck by the light in her eyes, the peace in her face, how much younger and happier she looks. Many who did not know her from before the great battle are surprised. They had thought she was simply a solemn, serious person by nature.

Mo'kriya is not surprised. Not really. Her mother looks the way she used to look while telling her father's avatar about joyous things, late at night when she thought nobody was watching. She has the same light in her eye, a thousand times amplified. The sight is uplifting, but Mo'kriya cannot help but feel a profound sadness nonetheless. The two of them hug for a very long time, wordlessly, with silent tears streaming down Mo'kriya's face. But she does not try to change Neytiri's mind.

Neytiri presents herself to Tsahik Selune and explains her vision: the significance of Toruk's death and how it had released the last fragment of Jake's soul to Eywa, allowing him to find her in sleep. She explains her plans for that night and gives instructions. A murmur of astonishment ripples through the crowd, but the purpose in Neytiri's eyes is clear and strong and immovable.

A ceremonial bed is prepared between two great tree roots, at the Tree of Souls. Very few people are granted the privilege of being buried here. At sunset, Jake's avatar is cleansed in the smoke of sacred herbs and moved from its place in Hometree to its final destination. Neytiri cleanses herself as well and join him there, face-to-face, curled like twins in a womb. She closes her eyes. The Tsahik says a few words, but keeps them brief; they will have time for a longer ceremony tomorrow. The assembled Omaticaya each murmur a few words of respect and farewell, then disperse without the usual placement of dirt clods into the grave. The occupants are still breathing —one awake, one asleep — but they will both be ready for burial in the morning.

Mo'kriya is the last to leave. "Sleep well, my mother, my father." She turns, and her soft foot-falls recede into the distance.

Neytiri opens her eyes and gazes at the avatar's face, its features illuminated by the peacefully swaying branches nearby. Then she makes the bond, feeling the restful trance enter her mind. She traces Jake's features with her fingertip once more, then closes her eyes to fall asleep for the last time. She is smiling, and her breathing is steady, matching that of the avatar's, fading away in measured steps like the ocean at low tide.

She awakens to find herself standing on the elevated dais, watching the day break in dazzling colors over the horizon. A figure forms a shadow against the light, gradually growing larger and larger until it explodes into the caldera in a storm of enormous wings, backlit by the fiery sunrise. A small figure dismounts, stroking the creature's neck and head like an old friend, then walks toward her, closing the distance with a purposeful stride that she could recognize anywhere.

Jake's eyes are alive with adventure, and Neytiri is ready for him. He offers his hand, she accepts it, and together they walk toward Toruk, who looks even more fierce and noble and beautiful than it had in life. It lets out an impatient roar, and Jake grins at Neytiri. They walk faster, then break into a jog, then laugh and sprint headlong toward the great beast before leaping onto its back, whooping. Jake makes tsaheylu with Toruk and wheels him toward the open sky. Then he hesitates, looks back over his shoulder at Neytiri, and grins wider. He hands Toruk's other antenna to her. She stares at him as she comprehends his intention, then hesitates briefly before taking her own queue and joining the link.

The sensation is overwhelming. The beast roars again, and she feels the thunder as though it is in her own chest. It stretches its wings and she can feel the yearning for flight, an urgent drive embodied in its pulsing heart and rushing lungs. The feeling is intense, larger-than-life... and familiar.

It is a lot like being linked to Jake.

Neytiri grips the antenna with one hand and wraps her other arm around Jake's waist. She lets out her hunting cry and hurls the three of them skyward with her mind. Toruk's savage pleasure echoes in her own mind, and behind it she can feel Jake's delight, reveling in her spirit, in the sensation of her arm around his waist, in the mighty beast carrying both of them straight toward the sun. The wings carry them far over the ground, before banking into a broad arc that causes the beautiful landscape to rush across their field of vision, in a sweeping panorama. It is unclear who initiated the banking turn –the man, the woman, or the beast — and it doesn't matter. They are one, together _ni'awongay_.

* * *

**Author's note: And that's that. Thanks again to all readers and reviewers; you have been a great audience.**

**If you haven't left a review yet, do it now! Come on, I know there are more of you out there, but your reviews are my only tangible evidence that you exist. :-p Tell me your favorite chapter, or something. Even just a simple overall "thumbs up!" or "thumbs down!" is appreciated.**

**I'd like to thank Muugin for pointing me to the song "I Will Wait For You," sung by Connie Francis and featured in the "Jurassic Bark" episode of Futurama (the one about Fry's dog). I am very, very flattered that you found it a fitting match for this fic. The song is sung in a woman's voice, but really the sentiment could be coming from either one of them.**

watch?v=TZnfoqxPSDs

_If it takes forever I will wait for you  
For a thousand summers I will wait for you  
Till you're back beside me, till I'm holding you  
Till I hear you sigh here in my arms_

_Anywhere you wander, anywhere you go  
Every day remember how I love you so  
In your heart believe what in my heart I know  
That forevermore I'll wait for you_

_The clock will tick away the hours one by one  
Then the time will come when all the waiting's done  
The time when you return and find me here and run  
Straight to my waiting arms_

_If it takes forever I will wait for you  
For a thousand summers I will wait for you  
Till you're here beside me, till I'm touching you  
And forevermore sharing your love _


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